Spencer spent most of his days shuffling around Derek's house, trying to avoid him. And Derek was getting a bit sick of it. He was unsure of what caused this sudden change in dynamic between them, but Spencer no longer came into Derek's bedroom at night after a nightmare, and he always asked Derek to leave when Derek came into the guest bedroom to check up on him. It was like they took a step back, Spencer pushing him away, shutting him out. Derek knew to expect this, of course. He was a profiler, after all. He knew the psychological aspects of what Spencer was going through as well as the more intimate details from his past experiences. The past experiences that caused Spencer to go through the worst of the abuse.

Derek shook his head like he could shake out the harmful thoughts. It did not work.

Now it was up to him to decide if he wanted to push Spencer or let him have his space. Up until this point, he allowed Spencer to avoid him in his own home.

He sighed and got off the couch, making a trip to the kitchen to recycle his empty beer can before venturing to the guest bedroom. He could hear Spencer moving around inside the room but when he knocked the movements halted. A moment later, Spencer cracked open the door a few inches to stare out at Derek questioningly.

"Hey, pretty boy,"

"Hey, Morgan,"

"Watcha doin', kid?" Derek pushed the door open a bit more. Spencer's duffel bag was sitting on the made bed, half of his clothes already inside it. "You going somewhere?"

"Home," Spencer said, wrapping his arms around his torso like he was trying to protect himself from Derek. Derek pressed his lips into a thin line, his heart rate picking up.

"Why?"

"Because I've been here for over two weeks, I think I'm fine to go home now. Thank you for letting me stay,"

"Stop being so formal with me," Derek said, a bit too harsh. Spencer blinked a few times, almost confused by the words, "What's going on inside that big, beautiful brain of yours?"

"Nothing of value." Spencer went back to packing.

Derek leaned against the door frame and eyed Spencer's backside. He shook his head again, silently scolding himself. His passive desire for his coworker is probably what got him into this mess. Spencer, a brilliant profiler, more than likely caught onto Derek's feelings for him and got uncomfortable.

Now he wanted to leave.

And it was Derek's fault.

A Hail Mary seemed appropriate at the moment.

"You know, your lease is up this month anyways,"

"It's a federal crime to go through my mail, Derek," Spencer said without looking at him.

"You could just...Stay,"

Spencer stood up straighter and turned to face Derek, his expression unreadable. Spencer had developed an impeccable poker face since this whole ordeal happened. "Stay."

He said the word slowly, like he was testing it out on his tongue. It was foreign to him, and he was deciphering the meaning. Derek shifted uneasily.

"Yeah. Stay. Here. With me,"

Spencer sighed heavily and threw himself down on the bed.

"I mean, it won't be that hard to move you in here anyways." Derek moved to the foot of the bed and sat down. "You don't have that many clothes, and the rest of it would be books. I got bookshelves in the study that are pretty empty, you could put them there."

Words were falling out from his mouth quickly. Spencer definitely picked up on his anxiety about the topic, because he turned his head to study Derek with an eyebrow raised.

Derek took a deep breath and reached out slowly for Spencer, giving him enough time to say no or move away. When he did not, Derek placed a hand on Spencer's knee and squeezed. "I want you to stay here with me."

Don't go. Not yet. I'm not ready yet.

Spencer stared at the hand on his knee for seconds, minutes, hours, before turning attention back to Derek. "Fine."

Derek squeezed Spencer's knee three times before grinning and standing up. "By the way, my mom wants you at Thanksgiving. If you're not going to Vegas, of course,"

Spencer closed his eyes and made no move to get up from the bed. "I don't usually spend holidays with my mom."

"That's not an answer," Derek pointed out.

"It's not a no,"

"Is it a yes?"

"It's not a no," Spencer repeated, softer this time. Knowing this was the closest thing to an answer that he was going to get, Derek nodded and left Spencer to unpack.

His phone rang when he got back to the living room and he repressed the urge to groan before answering it. "Morgan."

"We have a case," JJ said. Then, after a short pause, she asked, "How is he?"

"He's fine. I'll be there soon,"

He hung up and went back to the guest room. Spencer was where Derek left him, still laying down on the bed with his eyes closed. "You meditating, pretty boy?"

Spencer opened his eyes and sat up, studying Derek with his head tilted.

"I've got a case,"

He stood up from the bed. "We've got a case."

"No, I've gotta case. You're staying here,"

"I can do my job, Morgan,"

"I know that," Derek soothed, "Never said you couldn't,"

"You're breath smells like beer,"

"I had one. It's a Saturday night. I'm fine to drive. Scout's honor,"

"You were never a scout,"

Derek laughed and gave him a two-finger salute before heading for the door of the guest room. Spencer cleared his throat to get Derek's attention, and he turned around to face him.

"Be safe, okay?"

"Always am," Derek said, smiling.

Spencer scoffed. "You don't know how to be safe. All you know is kicking down doors, Derek."

"But I'm good at it,"

Spencer laughed, small but genuine. Then, his smile fell. "Come home soon, okay?"

Derek took a step, two steps, so that he was standing in front of Spencer. "I will. Promise."

Spencer's hand reached out for Derek's, and he ran his lithe fingers over Derek's scarred knuckles. Then, he squeezed three times. Derek smiled and leaned forward slowly, giving Spencer time to pull away.

"It's okay," Spencer whispered.

Derek pressed his lips against Spencer's forehead. He lingered there, closing his eyes and inhaling the smell of Spencer's body wash. Then, he pulled away and pressed their foreheads together. "I'll be home before you know it."

Spencer's eyes darted back and forth, looking into both of Derek's like he was trying to figure out if Derek was lying or not. There was a look on his face that Derek couldn't quite decipher, but he was willing to look at Spencer's face for hours to figure out what it meant.

But alas, he didn't have that kind of time. The team needed him. So, he rubbed his nose against Spencer's and pulled away. Their hands were the last thing to break contact as Spencer let Derek's fingers fall, returning his own hand to his side.

Three bodies had been found in a suburb of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It had the signs of a serial killer, and of course, of course it had to be in Wisconsin. If Spencer was with them, he would have made references to McCaffary, Gein, and Dahmer. Emily filled in for him at that front.

The unsub took a fourth victim, but because he usually spent days with his victims torturing them, they had to assume that the woman, a twenty-one-year-old student of the local private art college, was still alive.

Safe to say, Derek's mind was sufficiently distracted. But he owed it to this young girl to give his all for this case, her life might depend on it. So, he tried to push the thoughts of Spencer out of his mind.

In the end, they found her alive but badly beaten, abused, and raped. Rossi and Derek shared a look. The entire crime scene reminded them too much of what Spencer had gone through. Derek knew the other members of the team were thinking the same thing, as Hotch remained stock still after they made their arrest and JJ took the girl to wait for an ambulance.

"He wanted to come with," Derek said softly as Rossi passed.

"It's a good thing he didn't,"

Derek could only nod in agreement.

So, after only three days in Wisconsin, they were on a plane on their way back to DC. Derek rushed to get his paperwork done so he could go home and see Spencer.

"Hey, hey, hey. Hello," Garcia said, peddling her feet quickly but coming to a stop next to Derek's desk.

"Whoa, whoa, baby girl. What's goin' on?"

"So!" She said, slamming a case file down on his desk, "I looked through the rules. There's no rule against two FBI agents dating or even marrying each other. Hotch lied to me. Can't believe him. I'll have to tell Kevin that. Anyways, you and Junior G-Boy are in the clear. There's plenty of agents-"

"Penelope," Derek interrupted her, "Spencer and I aren't dating,"

"But you want to," She said, wiggling her finger at him. Upon seeing his shocked face, she sighed heavily in an almost mournful way, "Morgan, just because I'm not a profiler doesn't mean I don't notice things about my favorite boys. You two are made for each other. I helped him move into your house yesterday, for God's sake!"

"You what?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Was that supposed to be a surprise?"

"Probably," Derek said as he finished up his last file. She grabbed it from him.

"I will take this up to Hotch. Go home to your boy,"

"Garcia," Morgan said with a groan. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and scuttled across the bullpen and to the stairs.

He shook his head and got up from his desk, pushing in his chair. He gathered his belongings and rushed to the elevator, down to the parking garage, and probably broke some traffic laws on his drive home.

Spencer was sitting on the couch, reading a book when Derek got home. He looked up as Derek entered, his body tense until he realized who it was.

"Hey," Spencer said, closing the book.

"Heard you and Garcia were busy yesterday,"

"You were right," Spencer said as Derek sat down next to him. He absentmindedly reached for Derek's hand and squeezed three times, "The furniture in my apartment came with the place. All I had to do was throw away the food and pack the clothes and books. Garcia insisted upon helping,"

Derek wanted to ask him if Garcia told him the same thing about agents dating each other but decided against it. That conversation might just make Spencer uncomfortable.

"What're you reading?"

"Midnight's Children,"

"That's a big book,"

Spencer smiled and opened it again to the page he was on when Derek arrived. He put his left ring finger on the page and rapidly dragged it down, his eyes following.

"Do you know why we wear wedding rings on the left hand?" Derek asked softly, knowing that Spencer did.

"The Romans called it Vena amoris. Literally, vein of love. It's the only finger with a vein that has a direct connection to the heart. It's incredible how much the Romans shaped our everyday life and how we refer to things, actually. Why do you ask?"

"You're using that finger to read. Just wondering, is all,"

Spencer nodded and continued reading. Derek watched him for a while, Spencer turning the page every few seconds, pushing his hair behind his ear when it fell into his face. Then, Derek rested his head on Spencer's shoulder. If Spencer even noticed, he didn't react. Didn't even tense up like he normally did when Derek got too close to him. Derek grinned and let his eyes shut, finally able to relax after being away from Spencer.

He was startled awake when Spencer asked: "Why are you asking about marriage? Is there a new girl in your life that you haven't told me about?"

Derek pulled away from Spencer and stared at him in disbelief. Then, he leaned in and noticed that Spencer had stopped reading.

"Pretty Boy, you are smarter than that," Derek said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind Spencer's ear.

"Smarter than what?"

Derek gawked at him for a few more lingering moments before grabbing his chin and tilting his head so that he was looking in Derek's direction. "There's no girl in my life."

"Oh," Spencer said, his eyes darting back and forth, "Can you let go of my face, please?"

Derek immediately released him, and Spencer blinked a few times, trying to calm himself. "Shit, kid. I didn't-"

"It's fine. I just..." Spencer closed his book and made a few vague gestures with his hands. "At first, I was distant because I didn't think... I mean, you're you. I didn't think you would ever feel... The way you do. About me. Then, it was because I realized that you actually did feel the same way and I knew that I..." Spencer looked at Derek, then. Actually looked at him. Like Derek was the most beautiful piece of art in some famous gallery that Spencer had the pleasure of being at. Derek didn't deserve it, but he liked the way it made him feel. "I can't... I'm not ready. For sex. And I don't know when I will be. And it's unfair for me to ask you to wait for months-"

"Hey, hey!" Derek interrupted. "You think I'm only after sex?"

"Of course not!" Spencer said loudly. "But sex is a large component of normal adult relationships. For you even more so. And I'm not ready yet. But... I will be. Eventually. I just. Need time. Statistically, people like me fall into two categories after having something traumatic like that happen to them. The first is the hypersexualized, where they feel the need to regain control of their sexuality. I believe I fall into the second, where I am disgusted by the idea of sex in general. Perhaps that will change, but I don't know when,"

"Listen to me," Derek said, touching Spencer's arm lightly, with the pads of his calloused fingers, "If we never get there, I will be fine with that. If it takes years, I'm fine with that too. If you need to sleep in the guest bedroom for the rest of your life. Hell, if you need to move out to feel comfortable. I don't care, Spencer. I just want to be with you, in whatever way you'll let me. Got it?"

Then, Spencer surged forward and pressed his lips against Derek's. It was quick, giving Derek little time to react. When he did, he figured letting Spencer set the pace was the best course of action. Spencer kept his hands in his lap, resting on top of his book. He seemed to have no desire to move them, to touch Derek. And that was fine.

Spencer pulled away all too quick, blinking rapidly as his big brain tried to figure out what just happened. Finally, he made eye contact with Derek and laughed nervously. Derek laughed too, unsure of what else to do.

"That was..." Spencer began. Finally, he settled on, "Sorry,"

"For what?"

"I'm probably lousy at that,"

"I thought it was pretty good,"

Derek reveled in the way Spencer's cheeks reddened at the compliment.

"Uh, thanks," Spencer said.

"For what?"

"Not touching me, I guess," Spencer said, "I just... I guess I wanted to see how it would be,"

"And?"

"It was pretty good," Spencer agreed with another nervous laugh. Derek nodded, studying the way Spencer's wrist gracefully connected to his hands, how his fingers, skinny and long, would be perfect for piano playing or surgery. How the curve of his back was flush with his neck, which Spencer thought was too long for his body, but Derek thought was perfect. His lips, parted slightly, a perfect shade a pink. Derek took a deep breath as he committed every single feature into his memory. At a time like this, he was envious of Spencer's eidetic memory.

Then, Spencer leaned in again, slower this time, and pressed his lips against Derek's. Derek let his eyelids fall shut and enjoyed the feeling. Everything was heavy. From Spencer's lips on his to the hand that found itself on Derek's knee, squeezing three times. Derek placed his own hand on top of Spencer's and gripped it tightly. Spencer, in turn, smiled against Derek's lips.

Spencer's eyelashes fluttered as he pulled away from Derek. "Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me every time we kiss, Pretty Boy,"

Spencer grinned and looked toward the ground, suddenly bashful. He put two fingers up to his swollen lips and shifted closer to Derek, resting his head against Derek's shoulder. "I know."